


Flicker

by yutamatic



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Addiction, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, M/M, Smoking, Unhealthy Relationships, friends with benefits?, they establish that later tho, this came out of sleep deprivation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2020-05-14 20:51:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 11,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19280953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yutamatic/pseuds/yutamatic
Summary: Mark’s addicted to two things: cigarettes and a boy.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> i tried to stop myself but johnmark really came for my ass. this is my first attempt at writing something like this, so i kinda don’t know what i’m doing?? i’m sorry, please bear with me

A pack of cigarettes. That's what sits on the old circular table between them.

Mark stares at the pack, the only light hanging above them shining down on it, dimming out the rest of their surroundings.

"Are you gonna light it?" Johnny's voice never fails to catch Mark off guard, and he flicks his gaze towards the taller male, who he can only make out a few features of since the lighting is very minimal. 

"Yeah." Mark's tone is soft, a bit shaky if you really listen to it. He reaches out and slides the pack towards himself and flips the top up. He pulls out a single cigarette, that one tiny thing that brings Johnny and him comfort. 

Placing the tip into his mouth, he takes his lighter and cups his hand, watching the flame ignite and burn onto the cigarette. He inhales, and numbness washes over him, and when he exhales he can't feel anything.

It's an addictive feeling he can't get enough of.

The cigarette slips from his bony fingers as Johnny takes it from him, inhaling some for himself, and breathing out a cloud of smoke. 

Mark's eyes are hazy - watching Johnny go into a state of euphoria with smoke surrounding him is a sight that will be forever engraved into his brain. With strands of his dark hair peeking out from under his hood, eyes lidded and a cigarette burning away between his fingers; now that's fucking addicting. 

He passes the cigarette back to Mark, and he breathes in again, lungs full of smoke, mind full of nothingness.

This is their routine, late night smoking while sharing the cigarette. It's cheaper that way, they both conclude, since Johnny can barely pay rent for the small apartment they're in right now. 

"How's it been?" Johnny speaks up, voice deep and raspy, just how Mark likes to hear it.

"Shitty." is all he replies, the taste of nicotine on his tongue. "They keep telling me the same shit over and over again."

In the back of Mark's mind, he knows his roommates care about him. They tell him to stop wasting his money on ciggarettes, shout at him every single day to stop fucking up his lungs.

But Mark doesn't listen to them. 

He's stubborn when it comes to Johnny. 

After a few minutes of silence, Johnny tosses the cigarette butt somewhere, deciding it's not doing them good anymore. 

This time, he takes the pack, lighting another one, and passes it to Mark first. Johnny's always been a gentleman, Mark's briefly registered that in his cloudy mind. 

"How's it been?" Mark asks the same question, as Johnny takes the cigarette from his hand. 

"Might get evicted soon. Haven't been able to pay rent." he responds bluntly, placing the cigarette between his lips.

Mark stays silent, not knowing what to say. He decides he won't ask any more questions. 

"Wanna go out?" Johnny asks, after they've finished their second cigarette, and Mark hums in reply. They lift themselves from those uncomfortable dining chairs, and Mark pulls his forest green hoodie over his head and grabs the pack before they head out. 

It's pouring outside, with occasional booms of thunder and lightning strikes lighting up the dark sky. Johnny reaches behind him, fingers lacing with Mark's as they walk down the sidewalk. 

A faint smile graces Mark's chapped lips.

Their clothes soak up the rain, and it's cold - or at least Mark feels cold, shivering as Johnny mindlessly leads him somewhere. 

Before he knows it, he's in front of the apartment complex he lives in.

"Later?" he hears Johnny say, and for a brief second a pair of lips ghost over his forehead. Mark only nods, catching one last glance of Johnny's eyes before he turns away and disappears into the night. 

Mark's left there alone. He sighs, walking up to his apartment and using the spare key under the doormat to get in. 

"Where were you?" Renjun asks from the couch, the tv being the only light in the room. Jeno's asleep next to him, and luckily he's a deep sleeper so he won't wake up and greet Mark's presence. 

"Out." Mark stuffs his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, feeling colder than he was before.

"With Johnny?"

Mark doesn't answer that question, he just goes down the dark hallway and into his room. He throws himself down onto the rock hard mattress on the floor, body now trembling from being cold. 

He lays there, in the dark, listening to the sound of his breathing. His chest heaves up and down, and he's alive, physically at least. 

But Mark stopped feeling alive a long time ago.


	2. two

Mark wakes up with a back ache, as usual. He should really consider getting a new mattress, one that's easier on his frail body and doesn't feel like he's sleeping on a rock. But he needs that money to buy cigarettes, so he deals with it.

Tiny bits of sunlight seep through the shitty windows, and Mark checks his phone (which is almost dead) for the time - almost 2pm.

His roommates are probably at the university by now, he thinks. 

He gets up, lazily brushes his teeth and doesn't eat breakfast. He tugs his hood over his head and gets out of the apartment, sliding his hand into his pocket.

His fingers grab onto the wrinkled pack of cigarettes, weathered from the rain. He doesn't care about what condition they're in though, and still places one between his lips and lights it.

The nicotine flavor isn't as sharp, but Mark's standards are low so it'll do. 

He doesn't know where he's going as he walks down the wet sidewalk. The air is crisp and fresh from the rain, a big contrast to the clouds of smoke Mark's polluting it with right now. 

He passes by multiple small businesses that are right on the brink of the city, one of them being a record store. Ah, the nostalgia hits him, he used to be obsessed with those things back in high school. Those happy, carefree times, where he aced all his classes, was deemed to be successful. 

Mark's a university drop out. 

And he knows exactly where it went wrong - when he met Johnny in the summer between his freshman and sophomore year of college. 

He knows Johnny is bad for him. He's the one who got Mark into smoking, into cigarette dealing, into all these morally wrong things.

Yet Mark sticks around. 

He has to, he's addicted to that boy. 

Mark finds himself in front of Johnny's apartment door. Second floor, last one on the left, number 24. 

He hears some yelling going on inside, but then the door flys open and an angry old woman storms out. Mark blinks in confusion.

"That's the landlord." Johnny fills him in, and Mark has to blink again, but a million times faster.

Johnny's fucking _shirtless_ , shamelessly leaning against the door frame as he lets Mark in. 

Mark unconsciously runs his tongue over his dry lips at the sight, but mentally slaps himself in the face to stop whatever thoughts that are coming to mind right now.

He'd be lying if he says he hasn't thought about sinful things that involve Johnny.

"Where's the table?" Mark asks, noticing the circular piece of furniture they smoked at last night is gone. Other pieces of furniture are missing as well, such as the worn out couch in the small living room, and the tv stand (the tv's still there, it's just on the floor now). 

"Sold it. I need money to pay rent." Johnny answers. "Why are you here this early?"

Mark shrugs. "Just wanted to see you." 

He swears Johnny's lips curl up into a faint smile. "Wanna watch some tv?"

"Sure." 

Both of them sit on the carpet, and Johnny puts on some random cartoon, Mark doesn't really know. They're smoking, passing the cigarette between them.

They go through one cigarette, now two, now three, it goes on and on. Until Mark tosses the cigarette butt onto the floor and intends to reach for another one when he finds the box empty. 

"There's no more." he tells Johnny, who turns away from the tv. He furrows his eyebrows and takes the box gently out of Mark's hands, flipping it upside down to see if anything will fall out of it.

Nothing hits the floor.

"Fuck." he lowly curses, tone sending shivers up Mark's spine. He tosses the empty box on the carpet with the rest of the used cigarette butts. "Let's go get more."

Mark gulps, but nods nonetheless. He doesn't have money on him. 

They leave the apartment after Johnny puts on his hoodie, and walk along the sidewalk, hand in hand. The sun has disappeared behind the clouds, and there's cars on the street, honking and passing by. 

They probably look super shady, Mark thinks, but that's what gets the adrenaline running in his veins. Doing all these wrong things with Johnny makes him feel somewhat better about himself; it's kinda bizarre.

After a twenty minute journey, they finally get to the 'dealer house' (what Johnny calls it. They apparently sell cigarettes for cheaper than smoke shops) and he knocks on the door, and they quietly wait for a response. 

"Do you have money?" Johnny asks.

Mark shakes his head no, staying silent. Johnny presses his lips into a firm line, letting go of Mark's hand after giving it a tight squeeze as the door opens. 

A girl greets them, with messy hair and only a shirt and underwear on. 

"Johnny," she clicks her tongue, eyes raking over his frame. She lets the two in, and Mark settles on the old lazy chair, where he usually does.

"How much you got today?" she asks, strolling over to the sofa to sit down next to Johnny. 

"We don't have any today. Can I fuck for five packs?" Johnny's so blunt about it, and hearing those words is like a small stab in Mark's chest.

"Sure." the dealer agrees, licking her lips as they both get off the couch. As they're on the way to the bedroom, Johnny catches Mark's gaze, and mouthes a silent "fifteen minutes."

Mark nods. He takes out his phone and looks at the time, and ignores all the missed calls and messages from his roommates that are blowing up his lock screen.

Five minutes pass.

He can already hear the sounds, the whorish moans coming from the dealer, but also some low groans. 

Mark shivers, he's always wondered what sex with Johnny was like. It's probably so great, well in his fantasies it is at least.

Ten minutes.

Mark's uncomfortable. The area between his legs is now incredibly tight, god fucking damn it he's so hard. Biting his lip, his hand slides under the band of his sweatpants. 

Twelve minutes.

It's loud now. Mark can distinctly hear skin slapping, whines, curses. The pace of his hand picks up, and he bites his lip hard to suppress his moans.

There's a cry, and suddenly all the sounds stop. Mark's still going, eyes falling closed. 

"Johnny," the name leaves his lips as he comes. His breaths are uneven as he looks down to check his pants, there's a little spot but most of it ended up on his hand.

He hopes Johnny doesn't notice.

He checks his phone, fourteen minutes. Right when it hits fifteen, Johnny walks into the the living room, five packs in his hand (Yup, just in one hand).

"Let's go." his voice is breathy and raspy, and damn it's sexy. 

Mark gets off the lazy chair and they leave the dealer's house. 

His phone dies.


	3. three

Light is slowly disappearing from the cloudy sky, curse this fall weather for making the sun set earlier and earlier every day. 

“Wanna get dinner?” Johnny offers, and Mark blinks.

“Um, sure.” he still agrees, knowing that he’ll have to force something down in order to keep his physical body functioning.

Nicotine’s an appetite suppressant. Mark’s glad that it is.

He doesn’t have to buy much food, and can use that money to feed his cigarette addiction. 

They stop by a local grocery store on the way to Johnny’s apartment. 

“We need to look less shady.” Johnny gently tugs Mark’s hood off his head, fingers combing through the messy strands to make him look more presentable.

Mark hates that his heart flutters at the simple gesture.

Johnny smiles a little, taking Mark’s hand and leading him into the store. There’s a bunch of people roaming the aisles and shopping, and Johnny keeps Mark close, tightening his grip as they walk around. 

They end up in the freezer section.

“Want bagel bites?” Johnny asks, eyes skimming over the selections. Mark nods, he doesn’t really care about what he eats. 

Johnny looks around them, before opening the freezer door and making sure it fogs up. Mark sees him slip the box under his hoodie, before closing it and entwining their fingers again. 

“Let’s go.” Johnny simply says, and they walk casually out of the store, getting away with shoplifting their dinner. Mark’s lips form into a closed mouth smile, it’s as if he can feel the dophime being released from his brain.

Damn, it feels so good to do such wrong things with Johnny.

Back at Johnny’s apartment, Johnny throws the bagel bites into the shitty microwave, as Mark lights a cigarette for them. He lets Johnny take the first inhale, a way of saying thank you for stealing their dinner. 

A silence settles between them as they take turns smoking, eating their bagel bites. Mark doesn’t eat much, he feels like the cigarette is satisfying enough.

Mark’s sprawled out on the carpet, Johnny laying not too far from him. The cigarette hangs off his fingertips, and he’s already lost count of how many they’ve smoked. 

His phone lies dead in his pocket. His roommates are probably calling and texting him excessively.

He almost misses the sounds of the vibrations whenever he gets a text or a call. Almost misses the physical reminder that people care about him.

“I don’t know how much longer we have here.” Johnny exhales smoke, breaking Mark out of his thoughts. 

Mark only closes his eyes, his fingers grasping onto the cigarette that’s being passed to him. “The landlord was pretty pissed at you.”

“I know.” Mark hears him audibly sigh. “I’ll probably end up rooming at the dealer house when worse comes to worse.” 

Mark turns his head, eyes opening back up to stare at Johnny’s side profile. He looks so attractive from this angle. 

“I mean, free cigarettes, right?” Mark chuckles, masking the bitterness in his tone.

He doesn’t want Johnny to live with that whore.

“I guess.” Johnny replies.

Mark stays the night.


	4. four

The sun’s barely up when Mark goes back to his apartment. He tries to be as silent as possible when he enters, knowing that his roommates are asleep.

He tiptoes to his room, quietly closing the door before flopping down onto his mattress. 

Mark’s fucking exhausted. 

He rolls over and his phone falls out of his pocket. Mark briefly registers that it’s dead, and he should probably plug it in.

With heavy eyelids, he grasps onto the charger cord that’s laying not too far away from him. His phone slips out of his hand as he plugs it in, and he drifts off into a deep sleep.

—

When Mark opens his eyes, he’s vaguely aware of the sounds coming through the thin walls of his bedroom. The tv’s on, and there’s some footsteps and shuffling. 

He rubs his eyes, reaching over to check the time. It’s late afternoon. 

He drops his phone on his chest, limbs aching and sore. Curse this mattress for being a fucking rock. 

A few minutes pass, and Mark’s over staring at the ceiling for no reason. He finally gets up, not giving a shit about his bedhead.

Jeno’s in the kitchen, and he takes a short glance at Mark to acknowledge his presence. And even though it’s short, Mark knows what it means when he sees that look in Jeno’s eyes. 

He knows that look to well. 

Renjun turns his head from where he is on the couch, and gives Mark that look, too.

Mark doesn’t even have the time to mentally count down from ten when it starts.

“Were you with Johnny?” Renjun’s the first to speak, irritation in his tone. 

“Yes.” Mark simply answers, going to the kitchen and grabbing a slice of pizza.

“All night?”

“Yes.”

“ _Mark._ ”

“He’s not a good influence, you know this.” Jeno adds on, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “Why the hell are you still hanging around with him?”

“You guys aren’t my fucking mom.” Mark’s getting defensive. 

“But we’re fucking worried about you!” Renjun’s pissed, his eyebrows knitted together as he speaks. “We _care_ about you.”

“Why?” Mark shoots back, tone just as pissed as Renjun’s. “It’s my own life I’m fucking up, why are you concerned?” 

“It’s not good for you, Mark.” Jeno’s anger is bleeding from the tone of his voice as well. 

“Who decides what’s good for me? Only I can decide what’s good for me.” Mark rolls his eyes, slice of pizza sitting idle in his hands. 

“Well your decisions are awful and that Johnny boy and cigarettes aren’t good for you.” Renjun scoffs, turning back towards the tv.

The three of them fall silent, and the atmosphere in the room is heavy, it’s almost suffocating. 

Mark can’t breathe. 

He tosses his half finished slice of pizza into the trash, not bothering to go back to his room to grab his phone. Despite hearing his name being called, the apartment door shuts behind him. 

Everything is too much. 

Mark quickly lights a cigarette, like he’s desperate for it. He is, he will admit. 

The first inhale immediately puts him at ease.

His feet carry him down the sidewalk, he doesn’t know where he’s going. And he doesn’t care about where he’s going either.

He watches the clouds of smoke he exhales dissolve against the pink sky as the sun disappears behind the horizon. 

Mark feels numb.

It’s comforting; it’s like a warm, fuzzy hug. The arms that wrap around him mess with his senses, mess with his reasonable thinking. 

Logic is thrown out the window.

But Mark feels safe. Safe in this darkness that’s consuming him.

It’s his addiction. 


	5. five

Low and behold, Mark finds himself heading up the stairs of Johnny's apartment complex. It's muscle memory at this point, he concludes.

He tosses his used cigarette off the balcony, patiently waiting for the door to open.

Johnny greets him with a lopsided grin, and oh my fucking lord he's _shirtless_ again.

Mark swallows, stepping into the apartment wordlessly. He pulls out another cigarette from his pocket and lights it, and numbness washes over him as he passes it to Johnny.

He has to admit, that argument hurt a little. Fuck, it actually kinda hurt like a bitch.

Mark's chest aches. A part of him wants to feel horrible for yelling at them. The other part tells him to numb it all out.

It's obvious which part he listens to.

Mark stays silent as they smoke. He doesn't even look at Johnny in the eyes, just focuses on the carpet they're sitting on or the plain walls.

The tv isn't on, so the only sound accompanying them is some pipes making noise through the walls of the apartment.

Mark's stuck in this endless cycle of feeling like shit or nothingness.

And what he chooses to feel more often is obvious (again). He has a cigarette addiction for a reason.

Sometimes he wonders what it's like to feel other things. Happiness, for example.  
All that positive shit.

Guilt. Anger. Pain.

Those are the feelings Mark calls shitty. The ones he's constantly filled to the brim with, and he can't breathe.

But at the same time, he feels empty.

So empty.

But then Johnny exists.

He gives Mark a tiny bit of validation to latch onto. And Mark clings to it, feeds off of it as it's his lifeline.

The small, reasonable part of his brain tells him it's unhealthy. That Johnny's purpose really, is to keep him from ending it all.

And Mark hates how everything has gotten the best of him.

Johnny used to be just a smoke buddy. Just that, but now it's something Mark can't quite identify.

His hormones are going wild, probably. He's young, and he thinks Johnny's attractive as fuck, but also sorta of caring?

Mark was most likely delusional when he came up with that second part, but Johnny does ask him questions about how he's doing, and if he wants to eat and stuff.

Johnny isn't entirely bad for him.

"Do you feel better?"

The silence is broken when Johnny asks the question, and Mark knows he caught on. He's a fucking open book, so easy to read.

"No." he admits, tossing the cigarette butt somewhere. "Everything fucking sucks."

"Your roommates?"

Mark nods.

Johnny hums to acknowledge Mark's reply. He doesn't question him further about the topic.

Mark likes that.

"Well," Johnny purses his lips. "What can I do to make you feel better?"

The question catches Mark off guard. The first thing that comes to his mind is dirty, curse his fucking hormones.

"Uh," he bites his lip, hesitant. The words sit on the tip of his tongue, and he tries to swallow them down.

But his body betrays him.

"Fuck me."

It comes out quiet, but it seems like Johnny heard it clearly. He raises his eyebrows as they make eye contact.

Panic rushes into Mark, he's fucked up, just exposed himself, fuck, oh my god, he knows Johnny wouldn't do that, he doesn't like boys-

"Okay."

Johnny seems unfazed. There's a faint smile on his lips as he tilts his head, gaze darkening when their eyes lock again.

Holy shit, Mark thinks, licking his lips as Johnny grabs his hand, lifting him from the living room floor. 

"Are you sure?" Johnny's leading him down the hallway. 

Mark opens his mouth to reply, yet his voice gets caught in his throat. He still can't process that this is actually happening.

He only manages to reply with a choked "yes", before he's pushed against the back of the door. Johnny leans in, kissing Mark softly, and Mark hates how he melts at this. 

Johnny's lips are soft against his chapped ones, and Mark's head is spinning. He loses track of his senses as his hands grip onto Johnny's soft hair. 

The first kiss is experimental, getting the feel of each other's lips before it gets rough. Johnny's now biting onto Mark's lower lip, and Mark's mouth falls open with a whine as the other boy's tongue explores his mouth.

Soon they're on the bed, and Mark's hoodie is on the floor. Johnny's sucking on his very distinct collarbones, leaving red marks everywhere. 

Mark leans back onto the pillow, a string of moans leaving his mouth as Johnny's hands pin his wrists over his head. He's imagined this more times than he can count, being trapped under Johnny with absolutely _no_ control. 

More clothing is discarded, meaning more needs have to be fulfilled. Mark's moaning shamelessly now, not giving a shit if the people next door can hear him through the thin walls. 

Mark's in Johnny's lap, dick up his ass. It's almost overwhelming, he's not used to feeling this full. 

"Johnny," he breathes out, the pace of his bouncing picking up. His whole frame is shaking, blunt nails digging into Johnny's shoulders. "I'm close."

Hot breath ghosts over his ear. "Come for me, whore." 

That's right. Mark's a whore.

_Johnny's whore._

Mark's sent into the best orgasm of his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides*


	6. six

The unpleasant sound of yelling wakes Mark. He’s still in Johnny’s bed, snuggled under the cheap blanket as the afternoon sunlight seeps through the windows. 

There’s a dull pain in his ass and back when he stretches. He grabs his clothes from the floor. 

With a limp, he leaves the bedroom, fully clothed. Right when he walks into the living room the front door shuts aggressively, causing the walls to shake a little.

Johnny rolls his eyes, pacing around in a circle, not wearing a fucking shirt again. Mark’s cheeks get warm - he can see faint red nail marks and scratches lay across the skin of his shoulders. 

“What was that about?” Mark asks out of curiosity, watching Johnny light a cigarette. 

“That was the landlord again.” there’s bitterness in his low voice. “I might have to sell all my shit or just leave.”

“Oh.” Mark doesn’t know what to say. 

“I’m thinking the second option, I’m fucking done with that lady.” Johnny inhales, taking in the nicotine. 

It gets silent, both of them deciding to sit down on the carpet like they did yesterday. Mark winces as he straightens when he sits, and Johnny visibly gets concerned. 

“Are you sore?” 

Mark nods, inhaling the taste of nicotine. 

“Sorry about that. I don’t have any meds.” he continues. “But we can get some?”

“That would be great.” Mark agrees, placing a hand on his back as he gets up. Johnny walks over to him, and at first Mark’s confused, then he feels hands slide under his knees.

“What-”

“Let me.” Johnny lifts the boy against him. Mark wraps his arms around his neck for stability.

“Can you at least put on a fucking shirt?” Mark’s tone has a slight annoyance in it as his cheeks burn even more. 

“I forgot about that.”

After Johnny puts on his goddamn hoodie, he picks up Mark again and they leave the apartment. 

The streets aren’t that busy. Mark looks over Johnny’s shoulder, the apartment complex growing further and further away. 

“We’re out of packs, let’s go to the dealer house too.” Johnny speaks up as they stop at a crosswalk. “How about we stop at your apartment to get some money?”

“Yeah.” Mark’s reply is muffled against the fabric of Johnny’s hoodie. 

They walk into the grocery store, and Johnny immediately goes to the pharmacy section. 

“Which one?” he asks, holding Mark with one hand as the other holds up a bottle of pain medication.

Mark turns his head, squinting at it. “I think that will do.”

Johnny hands it to him, and Mark slides it into the hand pocket of his hoodie. They also steal a bottle of water as well.

When they get a little further away from the store, Johnny places Mark down carefully, as if he’s a fragile object. And in a way, he is, considering how frail his limbs are.

Mark takes the pills and downs the water, giving Johnny the rest of the water when he doesn’t finish it.

“Let’s head to your apartment now. Are they there?”

Mark knows exactly who he’s referring to, and he shakes his head no. They’re at university, thankfully.

Johnny lifts Mark again, insisting that it takes half an hour for the medicine to kick in. Mark doesn’t complain. 

He uses the spare key to get into his apartment. Even though his roommates aren’t here, the air still seems to be suffocating. 

Mark now realizes how much he actually hates being here.

He goes to his room, Johnny following behind him and standing in the doorway. There’s an old and empty dresser in the corner, he forgets it’s even there sometimes.

He slides open the top drawer, containers of chapstick and pens are rolling around in there. It looks completely innocent to a person who’s just snooping around, but he takes a random pen (one that he used to write with when he was still in university) and untwists the top.

Multiple rolled up twenty bills spill out of it, and Mark sighs in relief, thank god he still has enough. He shuts the drawer and snatches his phone from the floor, realizing that he he left it when he stormed out. 

He grabs Johnny’s hand and they leave the apartment. 

Next stop is the dealer house. It’s a longer walk, since Mark’s apartment is further from it than Johnny’s. 

Mark glances up at him, messy hair peeking out from under his hood. Last night, those strands were sticking to his sweaty forehead as he was pounding into him. 

Mark unconsciously shivers. 

He thinks if he feels down more often it will happen again. Not gonna lie, it was the best sex he had in his life.

Once they get to the dealer house, Johnny hands her the money, and they’re out of there in less than three minutes. Mark clings to Johnny’s side the entire time, nails digging into the material of his sleeve. 

What, they have sex _once_ and Mark’s already this possessive? Johnny isn’t even his. 

He wishes, though. 


	7. seven

“You up for an adventure?” Johnny asks out of the blue, passing the cigarette to Mark.

He blinks, but ends up replying with a soft ‘sure’. Johnny smiles, taking Mark’s hand in his as they walk further away from the dealer house. 

Mark doesn’t know where Johnny’s leading him. But that’s what’s exciting. 

They go to the brink of the city, around the stripe of small businesses. Johnny pulls him into the record shop.

Mark blinks, surprised this would be Johnny’s choice of location. He looks around, records and other musical things are everywhere, even some displays of record players, and he can’t help but be amazed.

“You told me you liked records one time, thought we should stop by here.” Johnny says, and Mark melts (he hates that he does though).

A smiled graces Mark’s lips as he looks at Johnny brightly. 

They look around for a few minutes, and more high school memories flood into Mark’s head. How he used to play a record every time he woke up and had it in the background as he got ready, he would turn on one right when he got home from school.

Those were great times.

“That’s a good one.”

Mark lifts his head. One of the Neighborhood’s records is in his hands. 

“Too bad I don’t have a player.” Johnny shrugs, and Mark slides it back into its place.

They leave empty handed.

The sun’s already set, and the sky’s now a hue of dark indigo. Mark’s unable to see the clouds of smoke he exhales. 

Now he really doesn’t know where they’re going. Johnny’s taking an unfamiliar path, and it makes Mark’s stomach do some flips. 

Johnny leads him into a random building, and there’s a bunch of staircases. The climb each one, and Mark finds himself getting tired, he’s too weak to climb all these steps. 

His legs are burning and there’s not much oxygen in his lungs. Johnny opens the door to the rooftop.

There’s a whole view of the city from here, all lighten up and everything, and Mark thinks it’s incredible.

They sit near the edge, legs dangling over four stories. Johnny lights a cigarette for them.

“Great view, right?” he asks as Mark takes the cigarette from his fingers.

“Yeah.” he nods his head.

Silence comes over them after that. Mark thinks it’s very peaceful, just the two of them smoking on a rooftop. A part of his brain tells him it’s romantic.

Mark draws his eyes away from the view to stare at Johnny’s side profile. He looks really good right now, eyes closed as he exhales smoke. He’s leaning back on his hands, and Mark so badly wants to reach out and intwine their fingers.

He doesn’t. 

There’s an ache in Mark’s chest. 

They stay there for a while. 

Johnny releases his hand as they stop in front of Mark’s apartment. 

“Later.” is all he says, lips briefly grazing Mark’s forehead then he leaves. Mark sighs heavily, unlocking the apartment door.

Thankfully, his roommates are not out in the living room. He doesn’t have to deal with them when he walks in. 

He goes to his room and flip down on that rock hard mattress he hates so much. His phone slips out of his pocket, and he finally decides to check the time. It’s almost midnight.

Mark sighs again, dropping his phone onto his chest. He stares up at the ceiling.

The pain returns to his back and ass. His mind is full of Johnny.

He doesn’t know where he stands now. They had sex. They sat on a rooftop like in those cliche teen romance movies. 

Mark knows Johnny didn’t see it that way the way he did. That’s okay, he convinces himself. 

_It’s alright._

Mark silently cries.


	8. eight

Mark leaves the apartment early so he doesn’t have to deal with his roommates. It’s chilly outside, his hoodie barely provides him warmth anymore.

There’s a cigarette between his lips as he arrives at Johnny’s apartment. He knocks, shoving his hands into the hand warmer of his hoodie.

About a minute passes by, there’s no answer. 

He knocks again. Waits. Knocks. Waits.

It’s been about five minutes, and he’s still outside the front door. Mark’s confused.

Another round of knocking. Waiting.

Still no answer.

Mark starts to panic a little. He paces around in a small circle, trying to think of other places Johnny would be.

The dealer house.

He starts to make his way there. He walks across the streets, down the sidewalk. Without Johnny.

He’s not used to walking alone. 

He arrives and knocks, rocking back on his feet impatiently. 

Johnny opens the door. “Hey,” he greets, and the raspiness of his voice makes Mark’s heart do something. 

“Hey,” Mark says the same thing back as he’s let in. 

“Who’s there?” the dealer says from the couch, there’s a cigarette hanging from her fingers. She’s watching some shitty tv.

“Mark.” Johnny replies, bringing his own cigarette to his lips as he plops down next to her. 

Mark tilts his head when he sits down in the lazy chair. Johnny’s not sharing a cigarette with her.

Then Johnny passes his cigarette to him. Dopamine is released from Mark’s brain. 

The three of them sit there in silence, the only noise in the house being the show they’re watching. Well, Mark isn’t really watching.

His eyes are on Johnny most of the time.

Mark wonders for the millionth time what it would be like if Johnny was his. But this time, it hurts.

Though he hasn’t asked, Johnny probably lives here now. And probably him and the dealer fuck.

Mark will admit he hates that. 

“Johnny,” he calls, seeing that the dealer fell asleep on the couch. 

The male turns his head. 

“Can we talk?” Mark finds himself. He really wants to take it back, but oh well.

“Sure.” he agrees, getting up from the couch. He follows Mark into the hallway.

Mark inhales, eyes trained to the hardwood floor below them. “Do you live here now?” the question comes out softly. 

He lifts his head to look at Johnny’s face before there’s a reply.

“Got evicted last night after I dropped you off. So I guess.” he says. “Sorry, I didn’t get the chance to tell you.”

Mark’s heart sinks. “Oh.” he looks back down. 

“You alright?” Johnny’s finger slides under his chin, forcing Mark to look up at him again.

“Mhm, yeah.” Mark quickly replies, inhaling some nicotine to take his mind off the pain that’s nailing him in the chest.

“Okay.” Johnny’s tone sounds unsure, but they stop the conversation anyway.

Mark just numbs all of it out with the cigarette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is so short hh


	9. nine

Mark lays in his bed, the blackbear vinyl that's playing overpowers the annoying sound of the air conditioner.

He's refreshed his instagram explorer page about a hundred times now. He sighs, turning it off.

He rolls over on his side, eyes laying on the digital clock that's located on his nightstand. It's late afternoon.

He was looking forward to summer for basically the whole school year, only to find it utterly boring.

Mark grabs his phone again, asking his friends if they want to go to the club tonight.

They agree.

—

Mark's drunk as hell. Everything's hazy, his legs are shaky as he walks. He's on the sidewalk, he can register that much.

His friends are nowhere in sight.

He doesn't remember slamming his hand on the pedestrian button. He doesn't remember walking across random streets.

He doesn't remember passing out in front of an apartment complex.

Mark wakes up with a pounding headache behind his eyes. He's in some bed, under some cheap blanket. He's still in his slacks and uncomfortable white button up from last night.

Eyes half open, he tries to make sense of his surroundings. It's obviously not his room since the walls aren't blue.

The stretch of smoke is in the air.

He sits up, getting dizzy from lifting his head so fast.

"Finally awake?"

Mark flinches at the voice. There's a tall figure leaning against the doorway.

"Who are you?" Mark's voice is croaky.

The guy comes closer, and Mark has to blink. Despite his headache, he can clearly recognize that this man's shirtless upper half is attractive.

"Johnny." he answers, standing at the foot of the bed. "You are?"

"Mark."

"Nice to meet you, Mark." there's a dip in the mattress, and Johnny's at the edge of the bed. Mark notices the cigarette between his fingers.

He scrunches his face up.

"Do you have a headache?" Johnny asks, bringing the cigarette to his lips.

Mark nods slowly. "Could you stop smoking?" there's slight irritation in his raspy voice.

The smell is giving him more of a headache.

"No can do." Johnny refuses. "You either complain more or join me."

Mark's lips part, as if he's gonna reply, but he just huffs in slight frustration. "How did I get here?" he's curious as he looks around more.

"You passed out in front of the building. Didn't wanna leave an unconscious young boy in the middle of the sidewalk." Johnny exhales smoke, and Mark watches the cloud dissolve into the already tainted air.

"By the way, how old are you? You reek of alcohol."

"Nineteen." Mark replies, not thinking through the fact that that's kinda personal information.

Johnny can be a serial killer for all he knows.

"Went out clubbing?"

"Yeah."

"The youth these days." Johnny inhales more nicotine.

Mark closes his eyes. There's a wave of stinging pain that suddenly hits him.

"I don't have any pain meds, but,"

The scent of smoke gets stronger, and Mark cracks open an eye. Johnny's holding the cigarette out to him.

"You can try this?" Johnny continues, smiling innocently. Mark's heart does something.

But the small reasonable part of his brain chimes in. Smoking is terrible, it only fucks up your lungs, that's what Mark has been taught all his life.

His mom will beat his ass.

"I promise it'll make you feel better."

The words seep into Mark's brain. He continues to stare down at the cigarette.

Johnny waits patiently with a gentle look on his face.

Mark breathes in, taking the cigarette with shaky fingers. He doesn't know what he's doing.

It's between his lips now, and he inhales again, and that's when it hits him. The taste of nicotine is prominent, dominating his senses.

He coughs. His pure lungs feel like something has invaded.

"You don't like it, huh?"

The cigarette slips from Mark's fingers and back into Johnny's hand. He gives Mark an apologetic look.

Mark finishes up his wheezing. It burns.

"I mean," there's a hopeful glimmer in Johnny's eyes when Mark speaks up. "I'll try it again?"

The cigarette's back in his hand. He breathes in slower this time, feeling the drug fill up his lungs. It's still burning, but it's better than the first time.

He exhales, amused by the cloud of smoke which leaves his mouth.

"Better?"

Mark finds himself nodding.

He inhales again. He exhales. Inhales. Exhales.

Johnny just watches him, head tilted.

They make eye contact as Mark breathes out. He's lost count of how many times he's done this.

The burning subsides. Mark feels nothing now.

He likes this feeling.

"I think it's done now." Johnny takes it away, tossing it to the floor to join the other used cigarettes.

Mark doesn't fully process what he has just done.

"Was it good?" Johnny asks.

He nods.

"Wanna another one?"

He nods again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my [cc](https://curiouscat.me/yutamatic)


	10. ten

“So you go to university?” Johnny asks. He’s leaning against the bedpost as Mark passes the cigarette to him.

“Yeah.”

“Do you like it?” 

“I mean, it’s stressful but also fun? It’s like I hate being there but also love it at the same time.” The cloud of smoke Mark breathes out dissolves into the air around him.

“Sounds masochistic.”

Mark feels his cheeks get warm, flustered by the use of that word. “You can put it that way.” he replies awkwardly. 

Mark doesn’t know how much time has gone by. His phone has no battery and lies in his pocket like dead weight. 

His friends must be worried sick about him.

“I think I should go.” Mark looks out the window to see the sky darkening. “Thanks for, uh, everything.”

“‘No problem.” Johnny stands up from the bed. He still hasn’t put on a shirt. “Do you live close by any chance?” 

Mark looks out the window again. He recognizes a few buildings, he knows they’re in the city. He can see the club all the way over there.

Damn, he must’ve walked far.

“Um, probably about thirty minutes?”

“I can go with you if you want.” Johnny offers. His voice is sweet.

“Sure.” Mark mindlessly agrees.

Mark’s expecting that Johnny will drive him there. But he’s confused when Johnny throws on a shirt and starts walking down the sidewalk. 

“We’re walking there?” Mark tilts his head.

“I don’t have a car.” Johnny shrugs.

“Oh.” 

The sun’s in their faces, reflecting off the cars that pass by. It’s hot too, and Mark regrets wearing these fancy clothes because he’s dying.

Mark’s a sweaty mess once he stops in front of his home. He turns to Johnny.

“Thanks for walking with me.” he says, and Johnny kindly smiles.

“Anytime, Mark.” he reaches out and ruffles Mark’s hair lightly.

Mark doesn’t expect the gesture at all, and before he can process it it’s already over. Johnny hops off the doorstep, and he’s gone before Mark’s mother opens the door.

She’s pissed. Mark has to sit through a whole lecture about why clubbing and getting wasted is a horrible thing.

“Where the hell were you? And why do you smell like smoke?” 

These are the questions that get most of Mark’s attention. Panic is the first thing that runs through his mind, and he has to make up something quick. 

“I was at Jaemin’s house, and there were people smoking. I didn’t smoke though.” it comes out smoother than he expected. He’s usually not a great liar, but his mom seems to believe it.

“That’s not good. You know that smoking is awful. Keep your promise and never do it.”  
   
Mark nods and swallows. 

She doesn’t know it’s already broken.

Mark heads to his room and finally changes out of the clothes he wore to the club. He faceplants onto his bed, suddenly feeling drained.

He thinks for a brief second that he should take a shower. He reeks of alcohol and smoke. He doesn’t move though. 

Mark rolls over onto his back. He stares at the ceiling, attempting (and failing) to organize all the thoughts that are running through his head right now. 

Smoking was a one time thing. 

Johnny was a one time thing.

It won’t happen again. 


	11. eleven

There’s nothing to do in the dealer house. Mark’s bored, still slumped in the lazy chair he’s been in for who knows how long. 

He tosses another used cigarette to the floor. Johnny lights another.

The tv’s on, but it’s become background noise at this point. The dealer’s still snoring.

“Are you gonna stay the night?” Johnny speaks up. His voice breaks the three long hours of silence between them. 

Mark actually doesn’t know. His first instinct is to say ‘yes’, but he also doesn’t wanna be around the dealer. Who knows, Johnny and her might fuck tonight.

“I guess.” 

He still agrees. Damn it. 

Johnny smiles a little, passing the cigarette. Mark takes it.

“You can take the spare bedroom. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Mark blinks. There’s Johnny being a gentleman again. 

“I thought you were gonna sleep in the dealer’s room?” it’s an honest thought Mark had. He’s relieved when Johnny shakes his head.

“No, I’m fine.”

It’s silent again, but not for long.

“Do you wanna do something? Getting kinda bored sitting here.” Johnny slumps back into the cushions as the cigarette hangs lose between his fingers.

“Like what?” Mark asks, though he already has something in mind. It’s sexual, he’s disappointed in himself. 

“Wanna eat? I hope there’s something in the kitchen, I don’t feel like getting out of the house.” 

“Uh, sure.” 

He follows Johnny to the small, dusty kitchen. It looks rarely used.

Johnny snoops around the fridge, cursing since there’s barely anything in it. But they manage to find a bag of chips in the cabinet.

Mark makes himself comfortable on the kitchen island, legs dangling. Johnny lets him take some chips from the bag. 

They’re stale. 

Mark doesn’t mind. 

“How’s it going?” Johnny asks, sitting next to him.

“I haven't talked to them.” there’s a bitter tone in his voice. He doesn’t wanna dwell on the subject.

“Oh.” Johnny doesn’t say anymore about it. 

They discard the empty chip bag to the floor. 

“There’s really nothing to do here.” Johnny says. “Nothing besides smoking and sex.” 

Mark tenses. Fuck his dirty mind. 

But the small, non-hormonal part of his brain knows that Johnny’s referring to the dealer. 

At least he got his hopes up for a moment. 

“You still sleep with the dealer?” Mark tries his best to hide the hurt in his voice. 

“She’s easy to please.” Johnny bluntly replies. “But she’s shit at pleasing me.”

“It’s terrible sex?” Mark regrets those words right as they leaves his mouth. It’s none of his business. 

Johnny shrugs. “I’ve had better.” he still replies. 

Mark’s mind immediately jumps back to the time they fucked.

“I’ve had better with you.” 

Mark thinks he heard that wrong. He’s flustered, but gets even more horny when Johnny turns to him with a dark look in his eyes.

Mark swallows. He doesn’t have the power or time to say anything, since Johnny pushes him down on the counter.

They’re sloppily kissing, and Mark whimpers as Johnny sucks on his tongue. 

Johnny’s hands slide under his hoodie. His touch makes Mark shiver as the fabric slides off his body, their lips immediately reconnecting. 

“ _Fuck._ ” Mark hates how desperate he sounds. Johnny’s sucking hickeys on his collarbones and chest. 

“You’re fine with fucking right here?” he detaches his lips from Mark’s skin.

Mark nods. 

“You better be quiet, the dealer’s asleep over there.” Johnny steps back to remove his own hoodie and claims Mark’s lips again. 

Johnny tastes like nicotine and bad intentions, Mark can’t get enough.

He’ll never get enough.

His hands slide up Johnny’s torso, and he breaks the kiss. Mark sits up, softly kissing Johnny’s neck before biting down on his shoulder.

He lowly moans, and that sound goes straight to Mark’s dick. 

After sucking a few hickeys on Johnny’s skin, Mark’s pushed down again. Johnny reclaims the upper hand, fingers sliding under the waistband of Mark’s sweats. 

“Turn around,”

Mark obeys, sliding off the counter. His stomach presses against the surface now.

“I’ll be back.”

There’s the absence of Johnny’s warm hand on his hips. The air pricks his skin, and Mark now realizes how cold he is without Johnny’s hands all over him. 

Biting his lip, Mark reaches in between his legs. He wraps his fingers around his leaking cock.

“You really couldn’t wait, huh?”

Mark shudders as he hears a bottle pop open. He doesn’t reply and only presses his cheek into the counter.

Johnny’s gentle when he inserts one finger. He’s like that at first, even when they had sex the first time.

Mark sucks in a sharp breath, teeth sinking further into his lip. He tries so hard to hold in his moans.

It gets harder when the pace picks up. 

Mark bites into the palm of his hand when Johnny’s fingers brush over that one spot. He can’t help the small squeak he lets out. 

Johnny’s fingers are gone. Mark’s about to whine, but gasps instead when the cock is pressed inside of him.

He grips onto the counter, trying to find some leverage. Johnny’s thrusts are deep, and _fast_ \- Mark’s losing his mind. 

There’s the faint taste of blood in his mouth. He’s biting his hand too hard.

Johnny flips them over, Mark’s laying on his back again. He thrusts even deeper at this angle, Mark throwing his legs over Johnny’s shoulders.

It’s impossible to contain how loud he is now. Mark’s hand drops from his mouth.

Johnny slams into his prostate over and over again. Mark’s eyes roll to the back of his head. 

He comes hard, Johnny’s name on his lips and his mind. His whole body shakes.

Mark whines at the over stimulation as Johnny continues to pound into him. 

“Inside,” his voice is weak, almost inaudible. Johnny still catches on and kisses Mark, open mouthed and dirty, when he comes. 

They’re catching their breathes. The air is sticky and hot around them.

Johnny turns his head, making sure the dealer is still asleep. She is, Mark sighs in relief. 

He grabs the towel that’s hanging on the oven, and gives it to Mark so he can clean himself up. Mark softly smiles at Johnny’s romantic side.

They dress themselves and Johnny hands Mark the pain medication. 

“Wanna light one after you’re done?” he asks as Mark spills some two pills into his hand. 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” 

Johnny goes back to the living room. Mark painfully dry swallows the pills.

His heart hurts. He knows it didn’t mean anything to Johnny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’ve returned from this three week drought with some shitty smut. sorry for the wait, i promise the next updates will be more consistent.


	12. twelve

Mark stares at the ceiling of the spare bedroom. The thin blanket can only do so much to protect him from the fall coldness outside.

He turns on his side and shuts his eyes. He can smell smoke and the dealer’s vanilla shower gel he used when he showered. 

It’s so quiet in this house.

Mark’s not used to it. He’s used to the tv’s faint noise and his roommates’ late night conversations in the living room.

He sits up, and the blanket slides off his shoulders.

The creak of the door makes him cringe. Mark puts his hand on the wall, flinches when the bite marks on the heel of his palm sting at the contact. 

The tv is on, but it’s muted. From the light the screen provides, he can see Johnny slumped on the couch with a cigarette in hand.

If Mark looks closely, he’ll be able to watch Johnny’s eyelids fall close every few seconds.

“Johnny?”

He turns his head, unfazed. 

Mark sits next to him, the cigarette’s now in his hand. They finished their night time smoking session an hour ago, but he still needs this.

“Can’t sleep?”

Mark exhales. “Yeah.”

Johnny takes the cigarette. “What’s on your mind?”

It’s a harmless question. Yet Mark’s heart drops.

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Blame the cigarette for making his mind fuzzy.

“Hey,”

Mark feels Johnny’s fingers entwine with his own.

He starts to rub circles on the back of Mark’s hand with his thumb. “I’ve noticed you’ve been off lately.”

Fuck.

Mark has the urge to just yell about all his feelings. 

So he channels that urge into something physical. He throws his leg over Johnny’s hip in one move and gets onto his lap, slotting their lips together. 

Johnny squeezes Mark’s hips in surprise, but kisses back. Mark tilts his head, and their tongues lazily clash together. 

He can taste the nicotine they smoked earlier and smell that same vanilla shower gel that radiates off Johnny’s skin. 

Johnny breaks the kiss and lopsidedly smiles. “What was that for?” he tilts his head. 

Mark can hear his heart start to break. Johnny really thinks it’s all for fun. 

“Just because.” he shrugs, arms still linked around Johnny’s neck.

“Because of what?” he lets his head fall forward until their foreheads touch. 

It takes all the fibers of Mark’s being not to spill right then and there. 

He doesn’t have the balls to face rejection, though. 

He goes back and forth - at least it’ll all be off his chest.

But if his feelings aren’t reciprocated, that’ll hurt like a ton of bricks falling on him at once.

“Johnny,” Mark pushes on his chest and separates their foreheads.

“Mhm?” Johnny looks at him.

Mark freezes. It’s as if his brain checked out at that very moment, because he suddenly doesn’t know how words work anymore.

Johnny’s patient. He slides his hands under Mark’s hoodie and gives his bare hips a reassuring squeeze. 

Mark just leans in and connects their lips again. It distracts him for now.

It’s another lazy kiss full of tongue. He bites down on Johnny’s bottom lip, hard. 

Mark kisses him until he can’t breathe, wants to get the cloudy feeling that makes him suffocate in the best way. 

“You okay?” Johnny asks through ragged breath when their lips part for a second before Mark dives back in. He slides his tongue into Johnny’s mouth as a reply.

He’s really feeling lightheaded now. He knows he should stop before he passes out.

It’s difficult to pull away. Mark finds himself craving Johnny’s lips right as their mouths leave each other.

He tries to catch his breath. He runs his tongue over his swollen lips as he stares at Johnny through the shitty lighting in here.

Hair messy, lips slick and red. There’s purple blotches littering his neck going down to his shoulders, and he feels a tinge of pride knowing he did that. 

It’s not like Mark claimed him. They’re not lovers.

“Is something wrong?” Johnny kneads Mark’s hips. The gesture’s so gentle and it makes Mark want to melt.

“What are we?” he luckily has enough self control left in him to ask. 

“We’re smoke buddies.” Johnny’s so fucking casual about it. 

There goes Mark’s heart strings.

He inhales to keep his composure. “Are we anything else?” 

“What do you mean? Well, we sleep together...occasionally.” 

Mark wants to scream at Johnny for being so dumb right now.

“Are you avoiding that fact?” there’s hurt in his voice. He can’t hold it in anymore.

“Avoiding what? Us sleeping together?” 

“Forget it.” Mark slides off his lap.

He can’t do it. _He’s a pussy._

“Mark-“

Johnny grabs his wrist, but he yanks his arm out of it.

“It’s fine, Johnny.” 

There’s a heaviness in Mark’s chest that crushes his heart. He’s heading towards the front door. 

“Mark, come on,”

Mark doesn’t think twice when he steps out into the chilly weather. It’s completely dark outside.

He uses the flame on his lighter as some sort guide. He lights a cigarette, craving it so bad, wants to feel numb so bad.

It hurts. Don’t worry, it’ll be gone once he takes the first hit. 

It doesn’t go away. Fuck.

Mark ends up going back to his apartment. It’s the middle of the night, so his roommates aren’t awake to yell at him.

He shuts the door to his room and locks it. 

Mark throws himself onto his rock hard mattress and doesn’t care if it hurts his back. He’s too focused on lighting another cigarette. 

The tears fall on their own accord, and Mark hates how he’s crying over this.

So he keeps smoking. One cigarette after another, he’s lost count.

For a second, Mark considers pressing the cigarette into his arm. Thinks that turning the pain in his chest into something physical will help it go away. 

He stops himself from doing it though. He knows it wouldn’t help, anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do i suck at updating lol


	13. thirteen

The only thing Mark can smell is smoke. It does a nice job at clouding the rest of his senses.

Sunlight seeps into his room now. He hasn’t slept at all. 

There’s a rattle on his bedroom doorknob. 

“Didn’t we establish that there will be no smoking inside the apartment? Why the hell does it reek of smoke in here?” comes from the other side. 

It’s Renjun. 

Mark doesn’t reply. He just inhales more nicotine.

“Mark?” 

The doorknob rattles again. “Open the door. What’s up with you?”

Mark exhales a puff of smoke and throws the cigarette butt on the floor. He moves for the first time in hours, his muscles are so stiff that they ache. 

But that can’t compare to the ache in his chest. 

He opens the door. Renjun has his arms crossed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Mark’s not even fazed by the irritation in Renjun’s voice. He has every right to be mad, Mark thinks.

“Nothing.” 

The word comes out raspy as hell. 

“Nothing?” Renjun raises an eyebrow. “You look like a wreck.”

Mark knows that. He doesn’t care though.

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Whatever, just stop smoking in here. Go outside or something, Jeno’s gonna get sick with the smell.”

So Mark grabs his pack and walks out the front door. He’s back on the streets again. 

There’s only one cigarette left. 

He lights it and places the tip into his mouth. It does nothing for him at this point. 

It’s not even good anymore. The smoke isn’t satisfying or numbing, it’s just there.

Mark coughs, lungs being deprived of oxygen for so long. He throws the cigarette on the ground and doesn’t care if it goes to waste. 

He’s walking down the sidewalk, hands stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie. To where, he doesn’t know.

He stops after a few minutes - of course he’s here. 

Second floor, last door on the left, number 24. Johnny’s _old_ apartment. 

Mark sighs. He’s disappointed in his muscle memory. 

There’s no point in being here.

He ends up going back to his own apartment to get money. He needs more cigarettes.

Seven dollars down the drain. Mark walks out of the convenience store and lights one right when he gets back on the sidewalk. 

The pain still doesn’t subside. He doesn’t care. 

The smoke and taste of nicotine are so bland now. He doesn’t care.

Johnny’s not here with him. _He doesn’t care._

—

When Mark’s not smoking, he sleeps. He has nothing better to do.

Jeno knocks on his door. He says something along the lines of eating, and there’s food out on the counter.

Mark cracks open his eyes and rolls onto the floor. He ignores the pain in his body as he stands up.

He’s hungry for once. 

“Did something happen with Johnny?”

Mark almost drops his fork. He knows Jeno’s curious, but there’s a slight vex in his tone too. Mark doesn’t wanna talk about it. 

“You’re just really depressed all of a sudden.” Jeno shrugs as he eats his own food. 

Mark finishes eating and leaves the kitchen without a word. 

—

Mark craves that nicotine, but it’s sad how the numbness is no longer comforting. 

All Mark has is a headache and heaviness in his heart. Plus he’s tired.

It’s shitty. Mark hates this. 

He hasn’t cried in days because he refuses to. Whenever tears prick his eyes, he presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth. It helps suppress them from spilling.

“Mark,”

There’s banging on his door. Mark flinches.

“Someone’s here to see you.”

Renjun doesn’t sound too happy. When does he ever, though.

Mark inhales and gets up from his mattress. He doesn’t even make eye contact with Renjun when he walks to the front door.

Tall figure, messy hair peeking out from under a hood.

“Hey,”

_That fucking voice._

Mark freezes.


	14. fourteen

“Why are you here?” 

Mark’s voice comes out weak and croaky as hell. 

“I came to see you, is that too much to ask for?” Johnny says in the most casual way as he leans against the doorframe. “I missed you.” 

Now that does something to Mark’s heart. 

“You wanna light one?” he thumbs behind him towards the outside.

Mark bites his lip to stop the “yes” that’s on the tip of his tongue. “Where are we going?” he asks instead, and prays the response won’t be the dealer house. 

“Anywhere you’d like.” 

Mark finally looks up and meets Johnny’s gentle eyes.  

He doesn’t know how to respond. The reasonable part of his brain tells him to shut the door, but the other aches to go back to how things were. 

_No feelings, just nicotine._

But he knows it’ll never be like that ever again.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“What?” 

“That you missed me?”

“Every word.” Absolutely no hesitation. 

Mark inhales, presses his lips into a line. He hates how his heart flutters at the words.

Johnny patiently waits. Doesn’t say anything, just momentarily glances up at Mark’s gaze. 

“Are you lying?”

Mark's eyes lower to the ground again. He bites his lip, as if he’s afraid of the response. 

Honestly he is. 

“I would never lie to you.” 

Mark steps out of the doorway and into the coldness. He represses his shiver as the door closes behind him. 

Johnny reaches out, tugs at Mark’s wrist. He pulls him close, lips grazing Mark’s forehead, just below his hairline. 

“Come on,” he whispers against Mark’s skin. “I know you wanna get out of here anyway.”

So Mark goes with him. He doesn’t want to deal with his roommates anyways. 

Though part of him wants to go back and shut himself back in his room. 

But they’re already walking down the icy sidewalk.

Johnny places a cigarette into his mouth and lights it. He passes it to Mark out of habit after taking a hit.

Mark doesn’t take it. 

It’s getting dark, Mark now realizes. And it’s cold as fuck out here so he grabs onto Johnny’s arm for warmth.

He doesn’t know where they’re going. But Mark always gives Johnny the lead, and he’ll always follow. 

There’s a motel on the corner of the next street. Johnny handles the front desk shit and they go to a room. 

“I’m sorry.” Johnny closes the door behind them.

“Why are you apologizing?” it’s breathy and quiet, almost like a whisper. Mark has his back turned to Johnny, and faces the bed with ugly floral sheets on it. 

“Didn’t I hurt your feelings?” 

Mark can feel his breath hitch. Johnny gently grabs his hand and turns him around to face him.

He keeps his head down, not making eye contact. But Johnny slips a finger under his chin and makes him look up.

He leans in, their lips grazing each other. 

It’s like an apology, almost. Like the words ‘I’m sorry’ are in the way Johnny kisses him, pulls him closer, slides his hand under Mark’s hoodie. 

And Mark’s head spins. 

Johnny’s lips trail down his neck, teeth barely scraping the skin. It’s so gentle, _too gentle._ But Mark likes that.

He grips onto Johnny’s hoodie, shakily exhaling. 

Mark knows it’s wrong. He should push Johnny away right now, before it gets too painful.

_But it hurts so good._

The back of Mark’s knees hit the bed and he falls onto it. Johnny presses light kisses to his bare stomach and ribs.

“But if I hurt you, I’m really sorry.” he breathes against Mark’s abdomen. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Mark closes his eyes and lets himself get lost, with Johnny on his lips, his body, and his mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i haven’t updated in three months, and i owe you guys a massive apology. if i’m being completely honest, i haven’t been motivated to write this story. thank you for waiting and not giving up on this, y’all are the best !! ♡


	15. fifteen

Mark’s eyes flutter open slowly. He’s shaking under the motel duvet, it doesn’t do shit when it comes to the cold outside. 

There’s a dull ache that runs through his entire body. He reaches his arms out, stretches a little. It doesn’t really help.

The space next to him on the bed is empty. In his half awake mind Mark knows Johnny won’t leave, not when he’s with him. 

He never leaves when it’s Mark.

Mark sits up, deciding to put his clothes back on since he’s so cold. He watches the purple bruises all over his chest and shoulders disappear under the thin fabric of his hoodie, and for some reason it brings him some sort of comfort.

He’s missed this. Missed the way they use to have casual sex after smoking together. 

He finds Johnny smoking on the communal balcony in front of their room. 

“Morning.” Johnny says as he brings the cigarette back up to his lips. He takes a long drag, lets the smoke filter out of his lungs slowly before he holds it out to Mark.

Mark takes it, puts it up to his lips without thinking. His arm moves almost mechanically.

The taste of the nicotine hits his tongue, and Mark feels like he can finally breathe. It clears his head, mutes his senses. He forgets that he’s freezing for a few seconds. 

“You wanna get breakfast?”

Mark turns his head. He meets Johnny’s soft gaze, and _oh_ has he missed that too. 

“No.” 

“You sure? You’ve gotten a little more thin since from when I last saw you.” 

Mark almost scoffs. Not at Johnny, but at himself for fucking melting every time Johnny shows that he cares.

“It’s fine.” he takes the cigarette between his fingers again. Johnny presses his lips into a line, knows Mark doesn’t wanna talk about it.

“How’s it been lately?” he asks, the question gentle and harmless. 

Mark exhales, watches the cloud of smoke he creates dissolve into the air. “Still shit.”

“Having trouble with your roommates?”

If Make thinks about it, the answer is not really. They do give a shit about him even though they’re irritated all the time, and sometimes Mark wishes he could reciprocate that - actually giving a shit. 

He shrugs as Johnny takes the cigarette from his hand. 

It’s silent for a moment and Mark’s cold again. He claws at his sleeves and curls into himself.

“Are you cold?” 

Johnny’s wrapping an arm around Mark’s waist, tugging him close until their sides touch. Mark melts into the contact.

“Why’d you take me here?” he asks, cheek pressing into the side of Johnny’s arm.

“Tired of the dealer house. Another client is staying with her, and they have sex all the time so I had to leave because they’re so god damn loud.”

Straight to the point, that’s how Johnny’s replies always are. Mark appreciates the honesty.

He hums. “You’re not sleeping with the dealer anymore?”

“Not for a while at least.”

Mark hates how his heart aches when he hears that. “Oh.” 

Johnny drops the cigarette butt from the balcony and into the parking lot below them.

“I know it bothers you.” he tilts his head down, and Mark can’t look him in the eyes.

“When I sleep with her.” he continues. Mark tenses, Johnny can probably feel him do that under his arm. 

“No, it’s fine.” he denies, lies between his teeth. His feelings can go fuck off. 

“You sure?”

Mark nods. _Pussy_ , he thinks to himself. 

He can never open up about his emotions and he expects to be in a fucking relationship with Johnny without that value of trust? 

Mark’s teeth sink into his lip. If he was alone, he would scream. 

“Let’s go back inside now, yeah?” Johnny breaks Mark out of his thoughts. The arm around his waist drops and intertwines their fingers together.

The blush on Mark’s cheeks warms his face up and his eyes lock onto the ground. “Yeah.”

Johnny tugs him back into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not dead ! sorry this chapter was low key shit. thank you all for waiting


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